Little White Lies
by Pyralis Anacreon
Summary: Neal Caffrey's past shows up in the form of a mystery man, but how far will he go to keep it secret? And Peter wants to know why Neal hates guns, why Neal didn't finish high school. Peter wants to know why he's dead.


Little White Lies

* * *

Neal Caffrey's past shows up in the form of a mystery man, but how far will he go to keep it secret? And Peter wants to know why Neal hates guns, why Neal didn't finish high school. Peter wants to know why he's dead.

* * *

Neal can see that she's been crying the moment he walks into the room. El's eyes are red and puffy, she's still sniffling a bit, and every so often he'll hear a h-Huh like a sobbing hiccup. It's as close to breaking down as you can get without wailing and waterworks. She's suppressing everything.

He hates himself for making her this way.

_Peter... you'll never forgive me_. And Peter isn't able to forgive him anyway. Peter's gone.

"El," He says softly, one hand coming up to rest on the glass between them. Maybe the guards think they're lovers, maybe they think-what the hell, Neal doesn't care. All he cares about is that Peter's wife is sad and alone and tired, and he wants to hold her and tell her it'll be okay.

It won't.

Neal can admit that she's beautiful, she's smart, funny, forgiving. She's the perfect wife, the perfect woman. But there's a reason Peter never truly worried about Neal moving in on El, and that's because of Neal's unofficial number one rule: you don't go after family. Neal respects family too much to mess it up.

"El," He says again. "I'm so sorry."

She gives another little half-choked sob, staring at him through the dirty glass. She swallows, tries to speak, and has to try again. "Don't-don't." _She doesn't know_, Neal thinks, _and it's hurting her_. "Please, just-the truth. I want you to-h-Huh-tell me the truth."

_I don't want to lie to you_. Neal tries to put the thought directly into her mind, but he knows that only happens in movies and books. _But if I don't, this will all be for nothing. All for nothing_.

And then, _This is for Peter_.

And that gives him the strength to say, "I didn't do it. I don't know who did. I don't know who shot him."

_I'm lying_.

His eyes are saying and he's begging her to understand. That he can't tell the truth, but he won't-he won't admit to doing it, not even for a moment. He will go to his grave swearing up and down that he didn't do it and that's the truth. He wants to tell her but-_I have to do this alone. For Peter. And for..._

His hand is still pressed against the glass. He kind of wants her to put hers there, too, but he knows that if she does it's all over-he won't be able to stop himself from telling, from ruining _everything_.

So he pulls it away.

And that is the final straw.

She's angry, madder than he's ever seen _anyone_. It's all her love for Peter turned into rage, all her trust in Neal turned to something that wants him to feel at least some of the pain she is feeling.

He's hurting too. He's just not showing it. Not showing any weakness.

"Peter is dead," She spits. "And you killed him, you fucking liar."

Neal sits there as if he has nothing more to say to her. El leaves. The guards have to literally drag him back to his cell; his legs don't seem to work right. Through the empty space in his head, one thought resonates.

_I lost the game...

* * *

_

The worst five days of Neal's life started pretty normally.

Meet Peter at the office, sit at his desk and pretend he knows what he's doing-that's something he has practice at. Wait a few minutes, for Peter to get his coffee fix and updates on everything that happened overnight, to look at the pile of paperwork on his desk, sigh, and ignore it until he's got the time and energy. Then Neal went up to the glass office.

It didn't seem strange at all that most of his day revolved around Peter. When's the best time to pop in, when he needs cheering up or an ego boost or a body and a brain to bounce ideas off of. Neal likes it-loves it, even-that Peter turns to him first now, to ask a question he already knows the answer to.

Neal has heard other agents joking about 'Burke's pet criminal' and it doesn't sting as much as it could. After all, he could've been _just a tool_.

But that's not how Peter Burke works. In Peter Burke's world, everyone is human and humans have reasons, whether they be _I just needed the money, my kids are starving _or _wanted to see if I could do it._ Neal's reasons haven't come into question yet, but his answer is always going to be _what else was I gonna do?_ because it's completely true.

That day, Neal had stopped by a bakery on the way to work and he was carrying a light pink box of still-warm pastries. He knew Peter didn't eat breakfast often enough to have a favorite one, but Neal really liked the peanut-butter-icing filled chocolate-iced long john. That one was in his other hand, half eaten and oozing deliciousness.

"Breakfast!" Neal crowed happily as the door swung shut behind him. He ignored the jealous stares of the people he'd passed.

Peter looked up; no bags under his eyes, no extra wrinkles, and there were only two packs of sugar in his coffee today. Peter smiled. "Morning! Are those donuts?"

Neal wordlessly offered the box to the other man. "Take your pic. I personally recommend the chocolate long john." He took another bite of his own, to prove it.

"How're things with the Carters?" Neal asked when Peter had settled down with his boston cream.

"Well, turns out you were right about it being an inside job." Peter said.

"Of course,"

"But it wasn't the wife-the daughter, the seventeen-year-old? She faked the entire thing. With the divorce coming up, she was going to use the painting as a bargaining chip, so Mr. Carter would let her go with her mother without a fight. A trade-off."

"Sneaky." Neal commented. "But you have to give her credit, it was a good plan. Excellent, even, for her age and knowledge. What gave her away?"

"Mr. Carter. She went to him with it and he came to us. We don't know where she hid the painting yet but we're bringing her in now; it'll be soon."

"Poor girl."

"Don't feel too bad for her, Neal." Peter said. "A few years down the road she'll either be a criminal mastermind or one of us."

"Funny, but I always thought there was a line there. A big one, like a wall with the words THE LAW emblazoned on it in giant letters."

"A good agent can get into the mindset of a criminal." Peter said.

"That sounds like you quoted it. Badly."

"I know. I realized right after I said it."

It started out like a good, normal day.

And then.

"_Neal Caffrey_."

Neal knew that voice.

* * *

_Audio recording of the questioning of witness *********** (name is blacked out for protection reasons) by Agent *********** (name is blacked out for protection reasons). Used in the trial of one Caffrey, Neal._

Agent: Do you know why you are here?

Witness: I'm the security guard who was on duty the night that FBI guy got shot.

(Witness sounds nervous)

Agent: Correct. Please state the pertinent events of October 31st as you remember them.

Witness: Um, I was in my booth, uh, watching the monitors and a little bit of the game on the TV, because the warehouses were mostly empty and I didn't think anyone was going to steal the stacks of printer paper.

(Witness stops)

Agent: What is it?

Witness: Well... are you guys gonna share this with my boss? Because I'd rather not get any more fired than I probably already am.

Agent: Your identity is being protected to the best of our ability. Only the necessary officials will know your name.

Witness: I guess that's fine then. So I was only looking at the cameras once in a while. I almost missed it. But there was a guy standing in the center of the screen, with his hands up. Burke, I think that's what you called him. He was kind of facing the camera-I saw him talking. I think... I think he was trying to talk the other guy out of it. Then he went for his gun, faster than anything I've ever seen. He got one off at about the same time... the same time he was shot. He fell down.

(Agent notes that Witness looks troubled. Agent waits patiently for Witness to continue.)

Witness: Another guy came running from the blind spot the shots came from. Caffrey. He had a gun in his hands. He went over to Burke and checked for a pulse, then tried to stop the bleeding from somewhere on Burke's chest. I called 911-it all happened so fast before that I didn't even think...

Agent: It's okay, no one blames you. Caffrey was a criminal, it was only a matter of time before he hurt someone. Because of your testimony, he'll be going away for a long time. Life, if we can manage it.

Witness: Is... Is that guy okay? Burke?

(Agent stands suddenly. The chair scrapes on the floor.)

Agent: We're done here. You can leave.

(Witness leaves. There is a sigh from Agent and a barely audible mutter of '_Neal_.' The recording stops.)

* * *

Neal didn't turn around. Under extreme duress, he might have admitted that he was afraid to - turning around would make the man behind him real. As a faceless voice, he could believe it was just his mind playing tricks, or someone with an eerily similar way of saying his name.

"Who are you?" Peter asked, setting down his donut.

"An old friend of Neal's. Are you going to turn around, Caffrey, or am I just going to keep talking to your back?" _You didn't seem to ever have a problem with it before_, Neal wanted to say.

Neal's eyes closed and he stood, pivoting on one heel to face the approximate direction of the door. He breathed, and opened his eyes.

And there he was, just like Neal hadn't been trying to forget him for years and _years_. The man who had ruined his life.

"Hello, Gabriel." Neal said quietly. Peter had never heard that tone from Neal before-it belonged to tired single mothers meeting their deadbeat boyfriends after two weeks gone and knowing he is just going to bleed her dry for money. It was resignation in the deepest sense-like Caffrey just knew this meant something was going to happen and it would be huge, life-changing, probably horrible, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.

It did not belong in Neal Caffrey's voice, not when he had just been smiling moments ago. If Peter had to describe that expression to a sketch artist, he'd say _draw a corpse _because Neal looked dead. It was a non-expression.

Peter really needed to stop reading the novels he found under El's pillow.

"Introduce us, Neal. I want to meet the man who turned you." Gabriel was smiling as he ordered Neal around.

Neal... Peter had never seen him like this. The usually confident, charming man reduced to hunched shoulders, downcast eyes and a stance that said he'd be shuffling if he walked anywhere.

Neal really, really didn't want to answer Gabriel. It was his dearest wish in that moment for the man to disappear forever.

"Gabe, this is Peter Burke. Peter, this is Gabriel Brite." Neal said. He turned his head fully away from Gabriel and sent Peter a look that was supposed to communicate something, even if Peter couldn't fully decipher it.

Gabe held out his hand. "Pleasure to meet you. I'm afraid Neal left out the part where he's my half-brother."

Peter let the surprise show on his face. "I didn't know he had any siblings. We couldn't find much on his family." That had never been a problem in the investigation, however. Neal never even went near his childhood home-which they'd been able to narrow down as 'in New York, the state.'

"No, you wouldn't."

It set off alarm bells in Peter's head, and he didn't ignore them.

"Why are you here, Gabe?" _Why now? _Neal wanted to ask. _It's been five years so why now?_

"Oh, I just heard you turned Fed, thought I'd pay you a visit. Nice office, by the way. I like the glass. The lack of privacy is so... symbolic."

"You've visited." Neal said. "Leave now."

Gabriel turned to him and that creepy smile flitted across his face again. "Wanna play a game?" He said, walking out the door.

"No!" Caffrey shouted after him, turning heads in their direction.

"Neal." Peter said as soon as Brite was gone. "What the hell was that?"

"That was him threatening me and you and everyone we know without ever actually saying a word. If he's come here then he already knows where both of us live, our hobbies, routines, our mother's first names!"

"Neal!" Peter tried to calm him down; he was having none of it.

"Call El, right now. Make sure she's okay, get protection for her-"

"Neal, what is_ the game_? Why do you think she's-"

"Peter!" Neal's hands went down on the desk as he leaned over it to look into his friend's eyes. "Trust me. Gabriel Brite is a psychopath. In this game, if I save all three of the people he's targeted, I win. If one of them dies, he wins and everyone else loses."

"Okay. Okay. I'll have two agents on Elizabeth right away. Who else?" Peter was already dialing.

"June. You. Moz... I'll talk to him. Maybe even Alex. Everyone I call a friend."

It was ringing. Peter looked at Neal. "When this is done," he said, "You're going to explain all of it to me."

"I will." Neal's eyes were wild and wide. "I promise I'll tell you everything."

* * *

Jones' new boss is an asshole and an incompetent. And the reason he's freezing on a bench in Central Park, reading a specific newspaper open to a certain page.

It's cold, which is why no one else is around when Mozzie sits next to him.

"I was very reluctant about coming here, you know." Mozzie says.

"I was surprised when you answered the phone, to be honest." Jones says.

"Why did you call?" Mozzie asks as if he doesn't already know.

Jones folds the paper and looks at the short man. "It's about Caffrey." But of course it is. Everything has been about Caffrey these past few days. "It took him four days to escape maximum security. We still don't know how he did it."

"Of course you don't." Mozzie doesn't look as smug as his words sound. "This is Neal. He knows how you work now. And you-none of you have ever known how he works."

"Peter did," Jones says, partly because he's loyal like that, partly because it's true.

"I remain convinced that it was Neal's complacency and not the suit's skill that got him caught."

They're getting off topic, but Jones needs Mozzie to keep talking. "What?"

Instead of giving a straight answer, Mozzie says, "Did you know Neal sent Peter birthday cards? Anniversary gifts? Postcards?"

No, Jones didn't.

"He started asking around about Peter the moment he knew who was assigned to his case. I believe Neal's exact words were: 'I think this one might actually get it.' Neal stopped being afraid and forgot that fear is what keeps us free."

Jones has to remind himself that Neal shot Peter. He has to replay that in his mind. "He shot a federal agent, Mozzie. Please, if you know anything, tell me. I swear that I will hear him out when I find him. I'll do what Peter would have."

"I don't know where he is." Mozzie says. "And you won't ever find him. Neal knows how to disappear."

Jones is not giving up yet, but he can see that Moz isn't saying any more. "How well do you know Neal Caffrey?" He asks. This is his last shot. "Did you know he has a brother? Did you know he can shoot better than anyone I've ever seen? Did you know he could kill in cold blood?"

Mozzie stands with an expression that says 'I'm not listening to this shit anymore.' His mouth says, "I don't need to know that, because I know Neal Caffrey, the man who risked his life to save my crush, a woman he'd only known as his waitress before that."

He starts walking away. "You seem to have forgotten him."

* * *

Peter told Hughes that Neal had received a threatening phone call and pictures as proof the threat was real. The lie barely registered anymore; it was necessary, because Hughes wouldn't be willing to use that kind of manpower on Caffrey's say-so. Both Peter and June's houses were put under surveillance right away. Mozzie went to ground and Alex was out of the country.

"Explain." Peter ordered as he closed the door to his office.

Neal sighed, and sat. He didn't hesitate. "Gabriel and I are related through our father—not the most faithful of men. His mother cheated on her husband, got pregnant, ended the affair and thought it was over with. Except somehow the husband found out and he took it really badly. He came home one night drunk, killed her and then turned the gun on himself. Gabe had no family that wanted him so someone tracked down his biological father, who was dead by then, and my mother offered to take him in. I don't know why. We barely scraped by as it was.

"I don't think anyone knew, not even the police who investigated it, but Gabe was in the room. He saw the both of them die. It screwed him up in ways that no one would see until later on. He was older than me but I'd always wanted a brother and now I had one. We were best friends. Time passed. Money got even tighter. We had to move around a lot—didn't take me long to figure out we were squatting the last few times. Gabe and I did everything we could to help her make ends meet but... it was hard. He got involved in a gang. I don't even know how.

"He wanted me to join too. He wanted us to be partners in crime again. But he kept coming home with blood on his clothes and I found two guns under his pillow. I told him to stop whatever he was doing. He refused. I told him to stop it or get out. He left. Came back two days later, pretending he'd quit. He hadn't.

"He kept trying to get me to do things. Killing. Shooting. Taught me how to shoot a gun. He was good at it. I eventually caught on. He was trying to ease me into it a little bit at a time. He hadn't given up the job and he hadn't given up on me. That's when I kicked him out for real. I convinced my mother to leave him, it wasn't hard. She had noticed too, but she'd never been able to control us and she'd never tried.

"Things went back to normal for a while, until I came back to our apartment and found Gabriel standing over my dead mother with a gun in his hand. He said I should've just played along but I didn't. And now every few years we play a game where he tries to murder my friends and I try to stop him."

* * *

"Caffrey had a visitor just before he broke out." Diana's new boss says.

"You're on the case, now, sir?" She asks him.

Dan Meyers looks up at her. "There is no case. But we can look into a few things, give the police some leads."

Diana nods. This will be so much easier if Meyers okays it. "Who was the visitor? Do we have tapes?"

"It was Elizabeth Burke, two days before Caffrey's escape. The tapes-with sound this time-are on their way."

They're all a little wary around Meyers. Everyone knew how to play it with Peter Burke, but Meyers is a new variable. How far can she push? "You think her visit has something to do with the escape?"

"I think it's strange how a criminal escapes, seemingly with ease, two days after her visit."

Diana pushes down the immediate response. Neal would never do that to Peter-but he shot Peter, didn't he? And El, she wouldn't, but Caffrey's charming and Diana almost fell for it, he's that good.

Maybe would've fallen, if he hadn't left off. She doesn't say anything.

"Anyway, I'm doubling the guard on her house, Caffrey might try to contact her-" The phone rings.

"Meyers." He says, picking up the phone.

Somehow the world has gone deathly silent and Diana already knows what the person on the other end is going to say. She can hear the words as if she is holding the phone herself.

"Elizabeth Burke has been kidnapped."

* * *

Peter had an explanation, a nice, long, detailed one. He didn't even ask any questions, just put his hand on Neal's shoulder and walked him out the door. Heads turned as they went by, because Neal's head was down and not smiling and the only other time they've seen this was when he's walking out in handcuffs.

"Don't tell anyone." Neal said when they were in the elevator.

"Not even Diana and Jones?" Peter asked him.

"Not even them. I've told two people before—Kate and one other person. Both of them are dead now."

Later, in the car:

"How're we going to catch this guy?"

"Wait. Ambush. I don't know. I've tried everything and none of it works."

"How many times has this happened, Neal? How many cycles?"

"...Too many."

And then, in Peter's house:

"Oh my god."

Because that was a bomb strapped around El's torso, and those were ropes around her wrists and ankles, and that was duct tape over her mouth. And that was a timer, two and a half minutes away from 00:00.

"The bomb squad won't get here in time." Neal was saying, as Peter fumbled for his phone and couldn't take his eyes away from El's unconscious form.

"What are you doing?" Peter half-shouted at Neal.

"Trying to disable it. The first one's always a bomb." Neal said. He had exposed some wires. 74:87 the timer read for a millisecond.

"Red, orange, yellow, green, blue." Neal said. His breathing had picked up a notch and he threw a wild-eyed look over his shoulder. "It's blue!" He tried to sound sure.

"_Are you sure?_"

"Does it matter?" Neal said, pulling the blue wire.

48:26 the timer read for three seconds. Peter kept waiting, but it didn't change.

* * *

El's sleeping body is a constant presence just off Neal's right shoulder. He can feel her there as if she is an extension of himself. Furtive glances in the rear view mirror make sure she is not awake.

He doesn't like driving, usually doesn't do it, but he can't carry El all the way to Mozzie's Thursday.

Escaping that prison would have been a lot harder if his plan hadn't already been set up. It was amazing how many holes there are for a prisoner to slip through.

Neal takes a sharp left, hears the horn of someone he cut off. Thursday looms into view.

He steps on the gas.

Mozzie meets him at Thursday's entrance, helps him carry El inside.

"What's going on, Neal?" Mozzie asks.

"Peter's dead." Neal breathes, wiping slick hands on his pants. "That means I lose. That means June and El die. I'm not going to let that happen again. Please Moz, you have to hide them."

"Okay, but this feels really wrong. I like Mrs. Suit. Is she not cooperating?"

"Moz, she thinks I just killed her husband."

"Didn't you?"

"No!"

"Okay then. C'mon, I've got a nice locked up room for her. Upstairs."

"Thanks Moz. Thank you."

"So where to after this?" Moz asks lightly. Neal doesn't have to say if he doesn't want to.

"To guard June at the hospital. I don't know what I'm doing anymore Moz. I've never tried playing it this way before. I don't know these rules."

"Then maybe Gabe doesn't either."

* * *

"We have to wait twenty minutes, then find the second person." Neal explained.

"We're not going to wait!" Peter was shaken up, angry, because his wife had been targeted. He wanted this Gabriel caught _now_.

"_That's one of the rules!_" Neal said. "If I don't wait, I lose. Twenty minutes, and then we go."

"Where to next?" Peter asked.

"Split up. I'll go to Mozzie's, you check on June. And no matter what, remember the time. Please."

Neal walked to Mozzie's, got there exactly thirty-four seconds before the time was over. He waited, stamping his feet and trying to shake the sick feeling from his stomach.

Mozzie was okay, but Neal's phone rang and then he started running.

He pulled it out and didn't wait for Peter to speak. "It's poison, probably a desert snake of some kind, get her to the hospital _now_." And then he hung up. _That's two_.

He knew where Gabriel was going next.

* * *

Neal puts on a uniform and talks his way into June's room. Once there, he strips down to fine clothing and becomes June's beloved son, supporting his mother in her time of need. He holds one of her hands with his own and keeps the other on the gun at his side.

A doctor comes in and tells him visitors aren't allowed right now, but a few seconds of pleading earn him special privileges.

* * *

"You're not supposed to be here, Peter." Neal said. They were in a warehouse, 1A, and Neal had the sinking feeling that the last piece of Gabe's game had just fallen into place.

"I followed your anklet. You're outside your radius."

"Peter, you have to leave."

"Why? What's here?"

"Oh, just the third and final act of this little game." Gabriel Brite said from the shadows behind Neal.

"Leave, Peter." Neal said again, his voice an octave higher and near hysterics.

"Neal, Neal, Neal. Just give it up already. Don't you get it? This is a game you can't win – and I can't lose!"

Neal drew a gun from behind, pointed it unerringly at Gabriel's chest.

Gabe drew too, but he pointed it at Peter's heart.

"Neal, put the gun down." Peter said, his hands halfway up.

"Peter, if I don't shoot him, you're dead."

"Don't do this Neal."

"He won't do it. Caffrey could never hurt a fly - "

"Don't do it - "

"I will kill you - "

"Put - "

" - Can't - "

" - Shut up!"

" - No - "

" - Won't - "

_C-CRACK!

* * *

_

"Hello, Gabriel." Neal greets his half-brother with a dangerous smile and a gun to the face.

* * *

Neal saw, out of the corner of his eye, Gabriel's right shoulder jerk back from the bullet's force. He saw Gabe run, holding the wound.

He also saw Peter fall and not get up. He didn't see Peter moving.

Neal crossed the distance between them in an instant, put pressure on the wound, but it was pointless. Blood poured from the hole in Peter's chest. He kept trying anyway. Bloody hands dialed 911 and tried to save a life. The most important life.

* * *

"This is for my little sister." Neal says as he clicks the safety off the gun. Gabriel, frozen with both hands raised and the syringe full of air he'd planned to inject into the IV on the floor, flinches a bit. "And for all the ones who came after her. Four cycles is enough. I win."

Neal's finger tightens on the trigger and his face is stone cold fury.

* * *

The sirens were a relief, albeit a short-lived one. He didn't even notice that police were hauling him away – he kept trying to see Peter as he was loaded into the ambulance.

Was he alive?

Had Neal lost again?

Was it over?

* * *

_CRACK-click_

The gun doesn't jerk in his hand with the recoil. It clicks quietly, a misfire. But there is a gunshot, and Gabriel Brite falls to the ground.

"You're dead." Neal says, looking in the doorway.

"Who told you that?" Peter asks, in good humor despite the hole in his chest two inches from his heart.

* * *

There wasn't even really a trial – they just decided he was even more guilty and he was sent back to prison.

Where, two days into his stay, he got a visit from one Elizabeth Burke, who told him Peter was dead in a fit of spite and anger. And so the game was lost.

Two days later, Neal escaped. In a whirl of rush and desperation, he protected the two remaining targets.

June, in the hospital, couldn't be moved.

Peter, previously in a coma and thought dead by both Neal and Gabriel, saw a familiar face striding confidently through the hospital halls in scrubs. At a distance, he followed.

And like a true agent, he was never without a weapon. The officer guarding June kind of resented his gun being commissioned on such short notice.

* * *

It doesn't all work out right away. In fact, Neal goes back to prison for a few days while everything is processed. Peter makes him promise not to break out again. Eventually, though, only a year is added to his sentence, and he's allowed to be Peter's pet criminal again.

And unlike four other times, Gabriel does not disappear when the game ends. He is convicted of twelve murders and three attempted, given life in prison.

"He'll get out." Neal says tiredly.

"And when he does, I'll shoot him again." Peter promises.

"Could you maybe actually kill him this time?"

"We'll see. What did you say right before I shot him and you tried to? 'This is for my little sister'?"

Neal falls still. "Her name was Lily. He killed her in warehouse 1A. The third one's always the hostage in the warehouse." He continues, even though Peter hasn't asked. "The first three were my best friend, my mother, and my little sister.

"I'm sure you wondered why you couldn't find my family. They're dead, every last one of them."


End file.
